Rosemund
by the1hobbit
Summary: They knew it was love. He was showing his love and that's how he hurt his hands. A story of a knight of Narnia.


Disclaimer- Not mine just playing in the Lewis sandbox. Thanks Elecktrum for doing beta work, any mistakes are mine. 1/8/2011

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The little child entered his small, quaint home with tears streaming down his face, hoping his predicament could be solved. His hands were covered in tiny scratches and had a few thorns buried deep. The causes of these –in a child's mind- major wounds were three roses in full bloom of the deepest red clutched in his small hands.

"Tamlin, what on earth happened?" a short, somewhat plump woman exclaimed at the sight of her son. She sighed mentally to herself, knowing her roses where doomed.

"I wanted to pick you something pretty, Momma!" The boy said as fresh tears started to stream down his face, both from the stinging pain and from embarrassment.

"Come here, you, let's get my little man cleaned up, shall we?" his mother said with a slight smile. Tamlin's mother never had the heart to scold him for such trifles as getting dirty (or in this case scarred), especially if he had good intentions. Boys will be boys after all.

Tamlin handed his mother the roses and proceeded to wrap his arms around her, looking for the comfort she always brought him.

As she tended his wounds, Tamilin sniffed, his tears finally dry. She kissed him softly on the head and tickled his sides gently to get a smile out of the emotional boy.

"You have a big heart, little man. But next time, a little more caution and a little less enthusiasm, hmm?"

He smiled brightly at her and replied with a giggle. "But, Momma! You deserve the best! And the bestest, prettiest red flowers were all the way in the back. And I knew you'd take care of me."

Her heart melted at that, and scooped her son up in a warm embrace. Refusing to let him go even after his halfhearted attempts of escape, (because secretly all little boys loved to cuddle with their mommas) she carried him to the well-used and well-loved rocking chair in the corner.

She picked up a book most Narnians owned, a book chronologing the great deeds of Aslan from the time that He breathed life into this mighty land to the time He died and was reborn.

Momma opened the book to a random page and quietly started to read. Upon turning the page she came upon a picture of the mighty Aslan broken and bleeding on the Stone Table and her little one gave a small gasp, never seeing the mighty lion like that. His mother had never read him this particular story, normally she chose stories that where a bit lighter.

"Momma, he has scars all over him!" Tamlin cried, dismayed the great Aslan could be hurt like that.

"Yes, love, but he knew he'd be reborn, and he gave himself and let himself be hurt for all Narnians to be free again. Because he loves us all and wanted his children to be happy."

Tamlin stared at the picture even as his mother read on. And in a child's mind it made sense. Maybe it was the wounds still fresh on his hands, but one word stood out: Love. It was simple. You did all you could for love.

Many years later, the boy grew into a young man, wanting nothing more in life than to become a knight. He worked and toiled and quickly advanced amongst the ranks in the infantry.

Little by little he earned respect amongst his peers, captains and kings for his constant dedication to his calling. Tamlin was always quick with a smile and prayer of thanks to Aslan, since it was right, and it was what his Momma always told him to do.

Just two years after becoming a soldier he was given the honor of being one of the personal guards to the sovereigns of Narnia. He held his title with great pride and his devotion to the Four was just as immense as his love in Aslan. The Lion, after all, appointed Kings Peter and Edmund with Queens Susan and Lucy to rule the land that, according to legend, was a reflection of His own home across the Sea. Tamlin swore to himself that, if Aslan deemed them worthy he would give his all for them as well. It was a love he still easily understood.

"Good afternoon, Tamlin. How's your mother doing?" King Edmund asked with a smile as he stopped to talk, taking his time to join his siblings. Court hadn't yet been drawn to order and Edmund liked talking to his subjects before any trying court assembly. It helped remind him, no matter how difficult the session, it was for them. As it was, Calormene dignitaries were coming and were never fun to deal with, he needed to be in the best mood possible.

Tamlin smiled and bowed slightly. "She is fine, Majesty. Since moving her closer to the Cair, she's not sure what to do with all the extra space the new home provides. I'm sure she has plans to add more rose bushes about the place. She can never get enough of them, and I'm sure the castle halls will be covered in them…again," he ended with a laugh.

Edmund laughed as well. When the soldier had first appointed as a royal guard, his mother was so excited for him and honored by the Kings for suggesting it, nearly daily she walked the three miles to the castle and personally delivered a small bouquet of roses in a variety of colors to anyone she saw, which was no small task indeed! Of course the Kings and Queens received her best and they accepted them as each in their own kind would: Edmund and Peter with awkwardness but with small smiles to an overly proud mother, Susan and Lucy both lavishing the praise. Lucy had a new rose in her hair two weeks straight, delighting in the thoughtful gift.

Not too much longer after that, Tamlin decided if he couldn't squelch his mothers urge to come, he could at least make the journey easier for her. He moved her to one of the many small buildings on the castle grounds with a small family of dogs he had met. At least there was a break in the flowers, since it'd take her at least another two months before the freshly planted bushes would flower. But the dogs, overjoyed with more company helped with the digging, and Tamlin's mother, being just as kind and vivacious as her son, quickly made friends with the local dryads who helped her little garden grow faster.

Even when winter came she still gathered her roses, because well, everyone loved winter roses. And it surely gave her something to do. If it made his mother happy, then who was he to deny her such eccentricities? It seemed it made everyone else smile too, and that's how he liked it, everybody happy.

Edmund patted him on the shoulder after hearing a subtle, forced cough from the High King that things really should continue. "Well, we're in for another round of tiring negotiations eh, old sport?" They both smiled comradely to each other and the younger king took his position.

As the court assembled and the Calormene dignitaries entered, Tamlin was all but a statue, only his eyes moving. He kept watch on all who entered. Most of the guests just seemed like pompous idiots, but a couple of men- Terebinthian merchants he assumed- behind the ambassadors set him ill at ease. They had a forced sense of politeness and set themselves to the front of the crowd. They looked to be humble traders, coming in to catch a glimpse of the monarchs at work, but just as Tamlin's eyes moved from face to face, the dark men had only eyes for one: King Edmund the Just.

Not three hours after the session began a break was called. Tensions were beginning to build, and attitudes where beginning to turn to anger, it was decided all parties needed to clear their heads. As the mass of people began to disperse, Tamlin's sense of awareness was heightened. The Terebinthian men, instead of moving out with the crowd made their way closer to the dais. Time then seemed to be moving in slow motion for Tamilin. One of the dark men, (as he had begun to think of them during the negotiations) pulled out something that glistened slightly in the light: a dagger. He saw the weapon flying straight at King Edmund and saw Edmund realize a moment too late that he'd never dodge it in time. Tamlin, not even thinking of consequences, ran to protect his king.

Tamlin saw Edmund instantly braced himself for death, to feel the weight of a dagger in his heart, The Just King was greeted by another weight instead, that of a young man. Edmund looked down in shock. In his arms was the deadweight of Tamlin, a dagger firmly planted in his back. A dagger meant for a sovereign. Tamiln tried to look up in confusion, hearing and guessing other guards had pounced on the small group of men unknown to him as they shouted obscenities to everyone in earshot. He knew his life was slowly leaving him, and hoped he'd be able to see Aslan's true home soon. Tamlin felt himself being lowered to the floor, as Edmund, holding the dying guard firmly checked for life. Tamlin looked at his king with glazed eyes, and in a barely audible whisper he spoke his last words with his last breath.

"For Aslan..."

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A funeral was held in honor of a Knight of Narnia, and a fallen member to the Most Noble Order of the Table. Though he never knew the honor in life, it was only befitting. All who knew Sir Tamlin Rosemund, knew it was the young man's dream to be the embodiment of all he thought good, just, and right in his cherished land. Roses by the dozen where laid on his grave by all who knew him, and a distraught but proud mother supplied just three deep red roses for her beloved son.

None could fault him in life, nor in how he died, only that he died. For they knew it was love, it was one they could understand. He was showing his love and gave to all what he learned as a young boy on his mother knee.

Where there is love, there is Aslan also.

_ End_

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**A/N:** Phew! I am alive, and I published something! I know miracles DO happen! Anyways, this was written during my hardcore writers block I was having for A Horses Boy. And to be honest with you, I'm not sure how I feel about this bit yet. I think it's a bit campy, (even for me) but my amazing beta elecktrum told me to post it anyways. So, I did. I was inspired by two muses for this btw, one being Nickle Creeks 'The Hand Song' (amazing band, check em' out) and the other... two internet cookies if anyone can guess. E got it, but she's better versed in old random stuff than I am, so she got it without any prompting. And here I thought I was being clever... lol :p

The name Rosemund means (if you go with a rough germanic take) from rose and protector. But if you want to go for a latinized take also means 'rose of the world'.

And lastly, do please let me know what you think. Because I really havent a clue how this will be received, and I'm more nervous in posting this up than any other one. And yes, AHB had updates coming. Just so you all know I haven't abandoned it. Thanks again! ~Sam


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